You're next

Review by Booklist Review

Construction contractor Mike Wingate is about to make the transition to developer with the completion of a new housing project outside L.A. Mike has everything tied up in this high-profile. gree. project, and when he uncovers a subcontractor's shortcut substituting standard materials for the agreed-upon, environmentally friendly alternative he faces public humiliation and financial ruin. After he begins receiving threats against himself and his family, he assumes they're connected to the development project. But could someone have uncovered secrets from Mike's shadowy past? Could these attacks be personal and on an entirely more frightening level? Hurwitz turns in another excellent performance, keeping Mike (and the reader) on edge, wondering what is happening to him and how far it will escalate. Highly recommended to Hurwitz's many faithful readers and to fans of Linwood Barclay, Harlen Coben, and Lisa Gardner.--Pitt, Davi. Copyright 2010 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Hurwitz (They're Watching) masterfully provokes feelings of extreme dread in this thriller centered on Mike Wingate, who's worked his way up from the bottom to become a successful home contractor in Lost Hills, "a Valley community thirty miles northwest of downtown Los Angeles." Without warning, two thugs, William and Dodge, show up and begin threatening Mike; his beautiful wife, Annabel; and their environmentally aware eight-year-old daughter, Kat, in really creepy ways. William and Dodge sneak into the house and steal Kat's toys, harass Mike at a ceremony honoring him, go to Kat's school, and attack Annabel. Mike, who was raised in a foster home, summons his only friend from those days, the formidable Shep, who has grown up to be a career criminal of considerable skill. The thugs work for the mysterious Boss Man, whose intentions remain unknown until Shep and Mike fight and sleuth their way through intensifying mayhem until they find the unexpected answer to the Boss Man's motive. (July) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

Left as a child at an orphanage, Mike as a grown man must protect his family from thugs who might have answers to his past. Hurwitz's first-rate portrait of someone who has struggled to rebuild his life from trauma features a satisfying mystery and suitable bad guys. (LJ 5/1/11) (c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

In Hurwitz's (They're Watching, 2010, etc.) latest thriller, Mike Wingate learns it's no fun to confront a bad guy who watches C-SPAN to discover the technique of water-boarding.Labeled Michael Doe by a jaded social-services worker after being abandoned by his father, who many suspect of having murdered his mother, Michael spends 14 years under the neglectfully benign foster care of Couch Mother. He meets stoic Shepherd White, another youngster tossed into the nobody-wants-these-kids jungle, who teaches Mike what matters in life are "loyalty and stamina." Mike earns Shep's undying loyalty by taking a rap for him just as Mike was ready to leave the system, saving Shep from a third strike. But that kept Mike from college. Shep became a safecracker extraordinaire. Mike became a laborer, then a foreman, then the developer of green housing. Mike also married Annabel, daughter of a lawyer who never learned to respect Mike. But life is good, complete with a beautiful little girl, Kat, who shares Mike's trait of one brown eye, one amber. Mike is photographed shaking hands with the governor while celebrating Mike's green development. Mike doesn't realize it, but the distinctive eyes, identical to his mother's, mean he has rights of inheritance to a multibillion-dollar industry. The "Boss Man" sees the photo and sends his killers. The action begins. Stolen cars. Knifings. Shootings. Mike slowly begins to realize why he is a target, and worse, why his daughter Kat is also in jeopardy. Enter Shep, with his underworld skills. What follows is a danger-filled trek around the Golden State. Along the way, Mike and Shep encounter a mystery surrounding an extinct Indian tribe; learn why Mike's mother died and father disappeared; and battle William and Dodge, assassins for hire, to a bloody but sentimental conclusion.A thriller that grabs readers by the seat of the pants and gives them a Wow, what next! action thrill ride.]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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Chapter 1   Mike lay in the darkness, his gaze fixed on the baby monitor on the nightstand. He had to be up in three hours, but sleep wasn't coming any easier than it usually did. A blowfly had been circling the bedroom at irregular intervals as if to ensure his continued alertness. His mother used to say that a blowfly in the house meant that evil was stalking the family--one of the only things he remembered about her. He took a moment to catalog some less morbid memories from his early years. The few imprints he'd retained were little more than sensory flashes. The scent of sage incense in a yellow-tiled kitchen. His mother bathing him. How her skin always seemed tan. Her smell, like cinnamon. The red light bars fanned up on the monitor. A crackle of static. Or was that Kat coughing? He nudged the volume down so as not to wake Annabel, but she shifted around beneath the sheets, then said hoarsely, "Honey, there's a reason they call it a  baby monitor." "I know. I'm sorry. I thought I heard something." "She's eight years old. And more mature than either of us. If she needs something, she'll march in here and announce it." It was an old argument, and Annabel was right, so he muted the volume and lay morosely staring at the damn thing, unable to click it off altogether. A little plastic unit that held a parent's worst fears. Choking. Illness. Intruders. Usually the sounds were just interference or crossover noise from other frequencies--a charge in the air or the neighbor's toddler snuffling from a cold. Sometimes Mike even heard voices in the rush of white noise. He swore there were ghosts in the thing. Murmurs from the past. It was a portal to your half-conscious mind, and you could read into its phantom whisper whatever you wanted. But what if he turned it off and this proved to be the night Kat  did  need them? What if she awakened terrified and disoriented from a nightmare, sudden paralysis, the blowfly's evil spell, and lay stricken for hours, trapped alone with her fear? How do you choose the first night to take that risk? In the early hours, logic and reason seemed to fall asleep before he did. Everything seemed possible in the worst kind of way. He finally started to drift off, but then the blowfly took another loop around the night-light, and a moment later the red bars flared again on the muted unit. Kat crying out? He sat up and rubbed his face. "She's fine," Annabel groaned. "I know, I know." But he got up and padded down the hall. Kat was out cold, one slender arm flung across a stuffed polar bear, her mouth ajar. Chestnut hair framed her serious face. She had her mother's wide-set eyes, pert nose, and generous lower lip; given her looks and whip-smart demeanor, it was sometimes hard to tell whether Kat was an eight-year-old version of Annabel or Annabel a thirty-six-year-old version of Kat. The one trait that Kat had received from Mike was at least an obvious one--one brown eye, one amber. Heterochromia, they called it. As for her curls, who knew where she got those? Mike leaned over her, listened for the whistle of breath. Then he sat in the glider chair in the corner and watched his daughter. He felt a stab of pride about the childhood he and Annabel had given her, the sense of security that let her sleep so soundly. "Babe." Annabel stood in the doorway, shoving her lank hair off her forehead. She wore a Gap tank top and his boxers and looked as good in them as she had a decade before on their honeymoon. "Come to bed. Tomorrow's a huge day for you." "Be there in a moment." She crossed, and they kissed quietly, and then she trudged off to bed again. The movement of the glider was hypnotic, but his thoughts kept circling back to the unresolved business of the coming day. After a time he realized he wasn't going to be able to sleep, so he went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Back in the chair, sipping contentedly from his mug, he soaked in the pale yellow walls, the raft of dolls on the floating shelf, his daughter in angelic repose. The only interruption was the occasional buzz from the blowfly, which had stalked him down the hall.   Copyright (c) 2011 by Gregg Hurwitz Excerpted from You're Next by Gregg Hurwitz All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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